Contrary Days
by Spirit Speaker
Summary: Steve Rogers deserved a vacation, desperately. However, what he didn't want was to experience the icy waters of an Alaskan lake while trying to keep himself and an odd companion alive. These days, most things are contrary to what the misplaced soldier expects. How is he ever going to know who to trust? Steve/OC
1. Chapter 1 - Lessons from Huxley

**Why am I starting yet another story? Purely because the new movie for this genre is coming out, and I'd like to have this published and available to read for everyone. At least, the first couple chapter published.**

**Standard disclaimer: I own nothing of Marvel or Avengers or Captain America. My OC and this plot are the only things I lay claim to. **

**Many thanks to my beta, Amodestpoet, who had such faith that I would eventually be posting this story, he even made a reference to it in one of his. Love ya, buddy!**

**Forewarning for this chapter: I am not a survival specialist and neither are my characters. If they do something wrong that an amateur would do, please forgive them. If it's something that Captain America would darn straight know better, then please review or even better, send me a PM. I can't learn from my mistakes if I don't know they exist. **

**That being said, please read and enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1 - Lessons from Huxley**

_"Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead."_

_-Aldous Huxley_

Three weeks in Alaska wasn't long enough.

High mountains and rolling hills between them.

Tall trees and wide expanses of prairie between the wide forests.

Fishermen dotted the rivers he passed as he drove down the long highways. Steve had heard the salmon were running this time of year, and he'd seen the evidence of it himself. The first time he ate out, he'd ordered a salmon dish and it tasted nothing like any of the fish he'd eaten before.

When he'd told that to the waitress, she just laughed and told him, "That's the wild Alaska difference."

And now, he was flying out in a small propeller plane to check out the mountains from above.

It was a small plane, but even so, it wasn't filled to maximum capacity with passengers. In fact, it was just him and one other individual. A young woman he'd bumped into for a brief moment while climbing into the aircraft.

She'd giggled and blushed and wouldn't look him directly in the eye. Not until he'd settled into his seat and they were both waiting for the pilot to finish his flight check and take off.

When he'd brushed past her, the first thing he noticed was that she smelled like smoke. Not cigarettes or even charcoal, but the distinctive smoke that drifts off a wood fire. A person only ends up smelling like that when they are sitting around a campfire or an outdoor fire pit. Sometimes it's to keep warm, other times it's to keep an eye on the food roasting over the flames.

The second thing he'd noticed was her jacket. Steve was certain that at one time the fabric was a bright lime green. Now, though, it was dark and almost a pea green. Patches of it seemed to retain a semblance of its original coloring, while other patches were simply smears of dirt. She'd taken it off after she found her seat, and folded up the fabric in her lap.

Normally this was a sign of an outdoorsy person, but everything else about this woman indicated that she clearly wasn't.

Her blond hair was pulled back with only her bangs hanging over her face and framing her cheeks. What little of her face he'd seen showed flawless makeup. Her pieces of jewelry all matched, and the yellow of her blouse was flattering with her skin tone. He was a little surprised by her choice of shoes, white sandals matching the white lace of her skirt.

The skirt stopped at her knee, and Steve found himself staring at her legs a little too long. He couldn't help, but marvel at the definition of her calf muscles. Romanoff had legs like those, but Steve figured that came with the territory for an agent like her. While he couldn't be totally certain that the woman next to him wasn't a trained assassin, he was pretty sure the toned characteristic of her legs came from a totally different source.

Over all, her entire body appeared slim once she'd pulled the jacket off.

When his eyes finally flickered up to her face and blue eyes caught green, he found himself pleased by the mirth that settled there. She smiled at him too, and Steve couldn't help but smile back.

The woman fidgeted for a moment, picking at the skin surrounding her nails until she finally built up the courage to break the silence.

"I've always wanted to do one of these flights." At Steve's questioning look, she added, "One where I was actually flying in between the mountains, instead of over them like the commercial flights do."

He nodded his understanding. "I've heard it's an incredible sight."

She grinned. "That's what I'm counting on."

Silence fell again.

Once more the woman was left looking around, waiting for the pilot to take off. Finally, her gaze fell on the soft coat folded up in her lap. She grimaced, held it up.

"This thing has seen better days."

Steve chuckled, "It certainly looks well worn, ma'am."

Shrugging, she told him, "It's really a perfect jacket for Alaskan summer weather. Not too warm, and surprisingly lightweight. I could have picked a better color than a bright green, though."

"Is that what color it is?" Steve squinted at it.

She gave him a sheepish look and nodded her head.

Steve realized his question might have been slightly insulting. "Well, it still is green," he tried, "just not _bright_ green."

"From all the dirt and smoke stains, yes I am aware," she informed him dryly.

He could feel the heat building in his cheeks and neck.

She caught the blush and wondered what caused it. She opened her mouth to speak or spout of some other random statement, but the pilot chose that moment to finally speak.

"Alright lady and gentleman, we are about to embark on a lovely journey through some Alaskan mountains. Please keep your seatbelts buckled at all time, with your tray tables and seat backs in their upright and locked positions."

Steve frowned while the blonde laughed. He vaguely remembered the phrase from his flight out to Alaska. Vaguely.

The grey-haired man continued, "My name is Rick, you may call me Rick or Captain or Captain Rick."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Captain Rick. I'm Juliet," the blonde offered with a soft smile. She glanced at Steve out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm Steve," he said, catching the hint.

"Good to have you folks onboard, Steve, Juliet," Rick responded with a nod aimed in each of their directions.

And with that, he set the plane into the beginning motions of take off.

Sighing happily, Juliet settled back into her seat. She sneaked a look at Steve.

The blond man was as relaxed as she was, and calmly gazing out the window. When she'd first saw him, the wave of his side parted hair and brilliant blue eyes made her breath stick in the back of her throat and the woman running the desk had given Juliet a knowing look.

After that, Juliet had to work up the courage to look the man in the face again. Which, of course, wasn't until both of them were seated on the small plane.

She looked around again. The plane really was small, smaller than she had anticipated when booking the sky tour. Not that she was afraid of heights or flying, but common sense does kick in at some point paired with that annoyingly useful survival sense. Clearly, her senses were not functioning up to par today.

It wasn't long after the bouncy take off that Juliet forgot her nerves. Instead, she was nearly plastered to her window, drinking in the fantastic views slowly, oh so slowly, drifting by.

When she spared a moment to look up, her left hand lashed out to hit Steve on the shoulder. "Steve, look look look!"

He jumped when her hand made contact with his shoulder, head turning in alarm. Quickly, he caught sight of the eagle hovering just over their line of sight and far closer to the plane than he would have expected. The creature was beating its wings in a steady and strong fashion, absolutely unhurried despite the plane passing beneath it. It was near enough that Steve would make out some of the definition of the feathers adorning it's underbelly.

Grinning, his uttered, "Wow," drew a flash of a smile from the woman seated next to him.

"Just look at him," she breathed. "Isn't he just gorgeous?"

Steve's eyes flicked to the awed woman before almost lazily gazing back at the bald eagle. "Yes, ma'am. He's beautiful," he agreed. "Though, how can you be so sure it's a male?"

She giggled. "I can't be, but it would be just like a man to show off like this."

"Oh really?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised. "I've seen a fair number of women showing off in my time, ma'am."

Juliet rolled her eyes, "But look at him. If that isn't the bird version of a strut, I don't know what is."

At that, Steve found himself agreeing. The animal certainly did look proud, even when it suddenly veered off and left the two human observers wanting.

Juliet leaned back in her seat and Steve too settled back. "Well, I'd say that just made this flight worth it."

"Glad to hear it!" Rick barked from his seat in front of them. "We don't often get a sight like that."

"Really?" Juliet asked, surprised and not at the same time. She shook her head in wonder.

"Yeah," Rick told her. "You folks are lucky the weather is looking so good too. We've got a couple of clouds up ahead, but nothing big."

"Gotcha." Juliet responded. "Awesome."

"So, you folks been in Alaska long?"

Juliet's eyebrow rose at the question, but Steve was the one to verbally respond.

"How do you know we don't live here?"

Rick chuckled. "You, my man, have got the worst poker face I've ever seen this far west. And that is saying something."

Steve frowned. "What does that have to do with it?"

Juliet leaned over and stage whispered, "He means you've been too awed by your surroundings to have been living here for any amount of time."

"That's right," Rick agreed. "And you, missy, need to rethink your choice in footwear."

Steve laughed out loud.

"Hey!" Juliet tried to glare at the man, but it was a weak attempt at best. "I'll have you know I have sensible shoes packed in my bag." She lifted the overly large purse onto her lap.

The captain snorted. "Right… What else have you got in there? Your knitting for Christmas?"

"How…? Thanksgiving actually, though good guess." She truly seemed to be impressed as Juliet tucked her bag back under her seat.

"What?" Steve asked a little incredulous as he began to laugh.

Rick was quiet for a moment. "You are kidding me aren't you? You really have your knitting in that bag?"

"Along with my sneakers and a pair of clean socks, yes."

Steve couldn't stop himself from shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?" Juliet asked a little defensively. "The sneakers are in case I need them, and the knitting is in case I get bored."

"Bored?" Rick nearly roared. "Were expecting to be bored on my flight?"

She tried to placate the offended man. "No, no. Not on your flight. Before your flight, like when we were waiting for you to finish your pre-flight safety checks and whatnot."

He eyed her over his shoulder. "I didn't see you pull out no knittin'."

She shrugged. "I had Steve to talk to."

Rick snorted again, shook his head.

Juliet shared a look with Steve and cracked up in a fit of giggles. Neither man could help, but follow her in chuckles.

Unnoticed by either of his passengers, Rick shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed a hand against his chest with a wince. The nose of the plane drooped for a bare second before Rick jerked back into action. "Sorry folks, don't think that chili dog at lunch is agreeing with me."

Juliet winced sympathetically and said, "Yeah that kind of food is always great at the time of consumption."

"Sometimes not even then," Steve mentioned.

The trio chuckled again and the cabin fell into a comfortable silence shortly after.

Juliet allowed herself to get lost in the sights of the mountains around her. She wished she'd thought to get a disposable camera to replace the camera that she'd lost the day before. The views from the plane were just incredible.

She could even see some definition to the trees.

Juliet frowned.

She couldn't see that kind of definition earlier. Were they dropping lower, or was the ground rising to meet them?

"Hey Rick," she spoke up. "What's the elevation of this area?"

Steve glanced at her as if he was thinking along similar lines.

Both waited for an answer.

Just as Juliet was saying "Rick?" again, Steve had unbuckled his seatbelt and was shaking the pilot's shoulder.

Confused and not a little bit alarmed, Juliet watched as Steve's hand disappeared around the man's think jacket collar.

He met her wary eyes. "Do you know CPR?"

Even as she nodded yes, the blond man was hauling the older one out of his seat and into the small space between the seats.

As Juliet opened Rick's thick jacket in order to better feel his chest, she asked Steve, "You think you can fly this thing?"

"I can try."

She resisted the hysterical urge to give a Yoda impersonation. Instead, she focused her energy on beginning CPR as she had been taught only a few months before. Dragging her hands down his chest to the appropriate spot and lacing her fingers together, she began the chest compressions. C-A-B as she had been told by the instructor.

Chest compressions to get the blood circulating, something only recently found to be more important to start first instead of the other two steps.

Completed chest compression led to Juliet checking the aging pilot's airway. Once she'd confirmed it was clear, she carefully breathed two breaths into the man's non-functioning lungs.

"Come on, come on," Juliet muttered as she started the cycle again, trying desperately to ignore the shaking of plane as it hit some unknown turbulence. "Jesus, please. Please." _We need You desperately._

When her stomach suddenly dropped, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Steve?" She cried. "We going down?"

"How's the pilot?" He called back instead of answering.

She shook her head, forgetting that he couldn't see her. "Nonresponsive." A sob bubbled up in her chest. Her movements gained an edge of desperation to them.

In the front Steve swore to himself.

"Leave him. Strap in." The bark of his command cut through her building panic and she scrambled for her seat.

"We going down?" She asked again, even though the answer seemed obvious.

He didn't look away from the instruments in front of him. "I'm going to aim for a lake."

He heard her voice again, but tuned her out, tried to keep his focus on what was in front of him and not the dead and frightened civilians behind him. The pattern and lilt of her words were familiar though.

As the plane continued to go down, Juliet's voice rose in volume and force. She was calling out, crying out for something or someone. Steve didn't know which, didn't care to listen long enough to find out.

Her seeming monologue didn't end when they first skimmed the water and lost a wing, not even when they rolled a full turn, but rather was cut short when they slammed into the surface of the lake and the cabin filled with the sound of rushing water.

Steve acted first, wrenching himself out of the pilot's chair and rounding on the woman who was gaping like a fish in her seat. Moving quickly, he knocked her hands aside, to which she let out a pained hiss as he quickly undid the buckle of her seatbelt. The water was just starting to hit her waist and was still rising.

He turned and faced one of the large front windows. The plane was sinking quickly and the water was _cold_. Cold as ice, only this time he was awake and wasn't alone. Steve lifted one foot and kicked at the large window. The glass crumpled under the strength of Captain America. A torrent of water followed.

When he was facing Juliet again, he found that the woman was standing and attempting to haul Rick up off the floor. She slipped under the pilot's weight and the flow of the water hitting her ribcage.

Juliet lost her grip on Rick's shirt as she pulled herself up sputtering. A strong arm banded across her sternum and helped her regain her footing. A firm voice spoke in her ear.

"Once the cabin fills up, we'll be able to swim out of here easier."

The water was starting to flow over her shoulders as Juliet nodded. "I can swim. You get Rick?"

Steve nodded. He knew there was little chance that Rick would make it, but a small chance was better than no chance.

Juliet tried to keep her breathing steady, but jeez, the water was _cold_. It felt like it was literally stealing her breath. She trudged as well as she could, as near as she could to the window. Steve fisted a hand into Rick's jacket as his body floated next to them.

And just like that, their heads were under the water.

The flow of the water was considerably weaker now with the pressure equalized between the inside of the plane and the outside. Not wanting to waste any time, Juliet made for the open window as soon as she realized she could swim without being pushed back by the water rushing in.

Her left arm refused to work right, but she utilized all her remaining limbs, aiming for the sun she could barely see shining through the surface. It was far harder than it should have been.

Once again, she felt Steve wrap an arm around her middle as he made his way for the surface. Relief flooded through her when her head finally broke the surface and took in a deep breath. The man didn't let her go, he kept pulling her and she tried to kick and swim as best she could to keep from dragging him down. She headed for the line of trees and didn't stop kicking until her knees hit the muddy bank.

She still felt Steve's hands on her as she crawled up the bank. For the moment, her focus was on getting out of the frigid water. When the touch of his hands suddenly disappeared, Juliet waited until she was out of the water before she began to look around wildly for the man.

He was swimming back towards the shore when she found him, the prone body of Rick being tugged behind him.

Juliet threw the heavy bag still on her back onto the muddy bank and sloshed back into the water. She got up to her knees before the first gust of wind hit her and the shivers became suddenly noticeable. With only one useful arm and the fingers of that arm already starting to cramp up, Juliet knew she wasn't going to be much help when Steve got Rick to shore.

When the blond man finally pulled the older pilot's body onto the muddy bank, Juliet dropped into position by the man's graying head. She cleared his airway, while Steve fell to knees next to the man's rib cage. He repeated the same moves that Juliet had done on the plane, with the same result. Juliet performed the emergency breathing at the appropriate times, but it was no use.

Rick never took another breath.

Eventually, Steve pulled Juliet up and away from the dead man. She let him, mind too shocked and numb to properly and emotionally process everything that had happened.

When she set down hard on a warm surface and hands warmer than her own began to rub her arm vigorously, Juliet forced herself out of her reverie. She forced herself to focus.

"Steve?" Her voice cracked.

"Yes?" He asked.

She could feel the muscles in her shoulders shaking, along with her stomach muscles. Juliet wasn't too sure her voice was going to be working for much longer. "Water… _freaking _cold." Another gust of wind hit her and she held back a pained cry as the wet cold of her blouse cut through her body.

"I hate to say this, ma'am, but –"

"Bag," she cut him off.

He frowned at her.

"B-bag." She insisted, pointing behind him.

Steve turned and saw the soaking bag. Sighing, he stepped away from the chilled woman to grab it.

He was surprised by the weight of it and was reminded that she had both shoes and knitting stashed in this bag.

A glance at her feet confirmed that she was in fact still wearing her sandals.

"You want your shoes?" he asked, opening up the bag. "We really need to get you warmed up first."

"No…" came out her choked whisper. "No shoes… emer-emergen-gency blanket. Small box."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he began to dig through the bag in earnest. He found the small cardboard box containing the emergency blanket and wasted no time in ripping it open. Unfolding the thin metallic plastic, Steve approached Juliet with the purpose of wrapping it around her shoulders.

"No, wait." She said. She tugged at the hem of her blouse. "Too wet. Too cold."

He opened his mouth to speak and settled for turning around. "I promise, ma'am, I won't look more than necessary."

Juliet would have chuckled if another gust of wind hadn't stolen her breath from her. She really would have chuckled the pain in her shoulder wasn't getting so much worse.

"Steve, I – I can't move my-my arm. Need your help," she told him. She wondered if she was blushing.

He faced her again, this time much more hesitant in his movements.

"Please," she whispered. This was no time for modesty, unfortunately.

She was a bit mollified by the blush spreading across Steve's cheeks. At least she wasn't the only one embarrassed by the situation.

"Alright," he said, tone much softer than it had been before. "Your left arm, right?"

She nodded.

Steve carefully arranged the emergency blanket behind her so she could grab it quickly when the wet clothing was no longer in contact with her skin.

"Ok," he said, voice still soft and calming.

Juliet wondered who needed to be calmer, her or him.

"I'll help you take your blouse off, then you are going to cover yourself with that blanket while I take a look at your shoulder, ok ma'am?"

"S-sounds good-d." She tried to smile at him.

Very gently, he began to lift up the fabric on her right side.

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A/N: I have been to Alaska in the summer, and I have to say that I absolutely loved it. I am really looking forward to going back one day. Eventually.

And no, the next chapter is not going to be any sort of steamy. This is merely an instant of practicality over modesty, 'cuz hypothermia is no joke. I've been cold in the field before and I was miserable. However, I had to luxury of a warmish jacket and shelter only a short hike away. Juliet... does not. Wet clothes making you colder? Get out of the wet clothes.

I hope you all enjoyed this first segment. Any thoughts? Wants? Desires? Hates? Let me know. :)

-Spirit


	2. Chapter 2 - Lessons from Spinoza

**Here's the next chapter. I'm doing a lot of updating today. Oh boy. Can't wait for Winter Soldier! Woot!**

**Many thanks to my beta, Amodestpoet, who sometimes knows my mind just a little too well. **

**Please, read and enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2 - Lessons from Spinoza**

_"Whatsoever is contrary to nature is contrary to reason, and whatsoever is contrary to reason is absurd."_

_- Baruch Spinoza _

Juliet couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her as the wet fabric was finally out of contact with her skin.

Steve smiled as he gently dragged the wet fabric down her partially extended left arm. Her shoulder movement had been severely restricted and if the pained gasp and welling of tears had been any indication, it wasn't very comfortable either.

Once he tossed the yellow blouse aside, he lifted up the edge of the blanket to block the wind from her. The sun was shining bright and warm, but the wind was biting.

As he covered her torso, Steve asked, "May I touch you, ma'am?"

Juliet gave him a strained smile and nodded.

He curled back the edgy of the shiny material to reveal the swelling that was gracing her collarbone. "That looks like it hurts," he commented.

She grunted. "Not so bad s-o long as I don-move." Her words were beginning to slur together.

Steve nodded, and rewrapped the thin sheeting around her, taking time to make sure it covered her head. "We need shelter."

She nodded as vigorously as she could. "Rock behind me?" She suggested.

He looked over her shoulder and scanned over the naturally formed structure. "Good eyes, ma'am," he told her.

She snorted at him again.

Carefully, he tucked her uninjured shoulder against his, looped an arm under her legs, and lifted her up without even a semblance of effort. She protested what he started walking, though.

"What is it?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Bag," she stated.

Steve's eyebrows shot up. When he realized she was serious, he rolled his eyes, but shifted his grip on her so he could bend and snatch up the black strap closest to him. "There better be something good in here, ma'am."

"Lots," Juliet replied with a small, shaky smile.

The rock pile that Juliet had pointed out was sizeable enough, but Steve was really wishing he had some way to further protect them from the wind. And some way to build a fire. Not only was fire a good way to get warm and dry off wet clothing, it also warned away many predators.

He deposited the thin blonde in his arms behind the larger boulder, hoping it kept most of the wind off of her.

It did, and she relaxed into the warm latent heat the sunlit side of the rock offered. As she tried to conserve what heat she could, she watched as Steve scanned their environment. The moment the crisis started, he'd slipped into a role different that what she saw initially on the plane. His movements and actions were beyond confident, they were ingrained.

And he kept calling her 'ma'am'.

Military.

Had to be.

The shivering was still shaking her body painfully, and a particularly violent shudder jostled her shoulder. Juliet grunted against the sharp stab of pain. As much as she disliked the pain, a very small part of her was glad for it. If her body went numb, she would have been in real trouble.

Well, real_er_ trouble.

Steve paused and crouched in front of her. "We need a fire," he muttered.

"Knife?" she asked.

He gave her an odd look. "Yes, ma'am, I have one." He fished it out of his pocket and showed her.

Juliet jerked her head. "Bag," she said.

Following her directions, he opened up her black canvas bag. Not entirely comfortable with doing so, he began to sort through the items inside. When plastic crinkled under his fingers and he pulled out the object, he held it up in front of Juliet's face.

"This what you wanted?" He asked.

In his hand, he held the clear plastic bag that Juliet had stuffed an extra pair of socks into a couple days previous.

Her lips twitched in a shaky grin. "No," she admitted. "F-Forgot I had-d them."

Shaking his head, Steve watched as she slipped a hand down to undo the straps on her feet. He opened the bag and handed her the socks. As she fumbled to get them on, Steve continued to sort through her things.

Juliet regretted that they were only thin, white athletic socks, but even that small bit of dry fabric against her numb toes felt amazing.

The sound of laughter drew her attention back to Steve.

He was rubbing a hand over his face as he laughed, her bag still open on the ground in front of him.

"Who are you?' he asked between chuckles. "Seriously, ma'am, you do not seem like the kind of woman to carry an emergency blanket, clean socks, and a _magnesium fire starter _for _fun._"

Juliet chuckled too. "Bought it for my b-br-brother, but you need a, uh, um, knife."

"Alright," Steve said, looking around again. "I'll need to collect some firewood. Do you need anything else from your bag, ma'am?"

"No," she assured him.

"Do you need anything else? I won't go far either way." Steve gestured to the woods at the top of the rocky bank.

She hesitated a moment, and then shook her head.

He noticed. "You sure?"

She nodded with an unconvincing expression.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

Juliet rolled her eyes.

"Ma'am if there is a problem, I need to know. It may seem small, but if it's something I can take care of, I'd rather do so now before it becomes a bigger problem."

Feeling somewhat like a chastened child, Juliet stuttered, "Sk-ski-rt."

Comprehension dawned on his face, followed by a swift blush. Her skirt was still soaked and likely still cold. She'd be a bit warmer without it.

"What do you need to do?" Steve asked.

She didn't meet his eyes as she muttered, "Z-zipper. Left side. I-I-I can g-get the rest."

With a single nod of his head, he gently lifted the plastic blanket on her left side up to her waist, pinched the thick white fabric with one hand and undid the zipper with the other. As he did so, one of his fingers grazed her side.

She jerked in surprise. "H-how are you so-o wa-arm?" Juliet asked, shocked. She'd already been wondering why she was so much colder than he was, but had passed it off as a testosterone and adrenaline thing. Clearly, he wasn't just not feeling the cold, he wasn't cold at all.

How could that be? It baffled her, since they'd both swam through the same frigid water and he was still wearing his wet clothes! Not that she wanted him out of them, necessarily, but she'd been desperate to get her icy blouse off.

Steve shrugged. "Cold doesn't bother me much. Trust me, I've been in much worse."

He pulled the metallic plastic down and underneath her, and backed away. "Now," he said, "is there anything else?"

Smiling ruefully, Juliet just shook her head.

He smiled back and stood to leave.

As soon as he was mostly out of sight, Juliet shimmied out of her wet skirt, all the while keeping the blanket wrapped around her to block the wind. She narrowly avoided soaking her blessedly dry socks and tossed the fabric to the side in a wet heap. She should lay it out in the sun to dry, same with her blouse, but at the moment her instincts were driving her to get as warm as possible and stay that way.

At the moment, she had no desire to go against that. Especially since each movement sent a stab of pain through her left shoulder.

She felt a tickle on her upper lip and Juliet reflexively sniffed. When she wiped her face, Juliet was surprised to find that her nose was running. She'd been blinking back tears earlier, but apparently that didn't prevent her nose from starting to run also.

As she pulled the blanket as tightly around her as she could, her eyes caught sight of Rick's flannel shirt. Steve had carried her farther than she had realized and she'd almost forgotten about the pilot. The sight of his body in the distance sent a different and all too familiar stab of pain through her chest. He'd been a nice man. Crappy pilot, as it turns out, but a very nice man. A deep sense of failure plucked at her, and Juliet ducked her head into the safety of her crossed arms. The pulled the blanket up of her head to fully block out the world around her.

Silent tears continued to roll down her face as she shivered relentlessly.

Matchless fire starter in his pocket, Steve trekked a short distance through the woods, searching for appropriate kindling and firewood. Fortunately, the area was too damp for him to find anything, and each beam of sunlight that came through canopy was a relief against his skin. While what he'd said to Juliet was true, his damp shirt was still cold enough to be uncomfortable. Painfully so, no, but uncomfortable all the same.

He was also using the time away from the odd blonde to sort through his thoughts. It was odd, but what bothered him most was that she hadn't panicked yet. Juliet had kept a cool head, followed his directions easy enough, and was level minded to alert him to useful items in her bag. Despite her explanation for the magnesium lighter, Steve still felt a touch of apprehension. Now, he wouldn't put it past S.H.I.E.L.D. to have an agent following him and checking in on his whereabouts, but until now he hadn't had a reason to suspect someone as an agent.

Why it bothered him, he couldn't fully say. Was it because he didn't fully trust S.H.I.E.L.D.? Fury had certainly proved himself with the battle in New York, but the Phase 2 weapons still existed. Heck, he probably trust Stark more than S.H.I.E.L.D.

Once he had a full armload of wood, he headed back to what was going to be their camp. He carefully dropped the pile in a dry area, and glanced at Juliet. The poor dame must be freezing, she was bundled up beneath the blanket in a tight little ball. If her collarbone was truly broken, then that position was going to get uncomfortable real fast.

He turned his back on her again when he heard a choked sound. He knew what that sound was and with a heart full of dread, Steve faced her once again. Raiding a HYDRA base? No problem. Comforting a crying woman? He was woefully out of his depth. Did she even know he was there? He hadn't announced his presence, but hadn't been particularly quiet either, and she did acknowledge him.

Uncertainty kept him from moving closer to her.

Another sob escaped her.

He spun back towards the woods again and left her there. It was better for him to take care of what he knew how to do. Or at least, could make a best guess as to what to do.

Even as he left the shoreline with his tail tucked between his legs, Steve could feel some of his apprehension ebb away. There was the normal human reaction taking over as the adrenaline was no longer enough to sustain her.

As it were, Juliet didn't hear Steve drop of the first pile of firewood. She'd been focused on choking back the sobs building in her chest for her own sake. Not only did she have a strong dislike for crying, each sob shook her shoulder and sent a painful twinge through her. Crying was definitely not the answer at the moment, though she didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Usually, Juliet got kept herself busy when she was feeling down. It was an easy thing to do considering her profession. Right now though, she couldn't move without more wind stealing her heat or her shoulder flaring up.

So she kept her face buried against her knees until heat began to prick at sock-covered feet. Listening to her surrounding, Juliet realized Steve had returned and must have been back for some time.

Lifting her head, she found that Steve had been successful in both finding dry wood and kindling, and in working the matchless fire starter. As the flames grew and warmth began to hit her in gentle waves, Juliet valiantly attempted to wipe what remained of her tears from her face.

She could see over Steve's shoulder that he had a decent sized pile of wood collected. She wondered how many trips he had made. If he'd made even more than one, then he'd probably seen or heard her crying.

Embarrassment churned in her gut as she laid her face flat on the tops of her knees, instead of ducking her head again. She loosened her grip on the emergency blanket hoping to allow a little more heat from the fire to hit her.

Her toes were closest to the fire, and soon began to prickle uncomfortably. She curled them in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but it continued to grow. The prickling spread, not just affecting her toes but nearly all her skin.

Two large hands began to rub over her right arm and across her back briskly. Juliet winced and reflexively leaned away from the offending hands.

"Hey, it's alright, don't move. We have to get you warmed up," Steve said. He urged her to shift closer to the fire. "It's going to be rather uncomfortable, but there's no way around that."

Juliet forced herself to relax as she gritted her teeth. This close to the fire initially felt great, but now it felt like she was covered in a multitude of fire ants. Her shivering was already abating, and for that she was grateful, though she almost missed the numbness of her skin in comparison to this. She had a vague memory of her first experience with snow without gloves. All she can really remember was screaming at her father that her fingers hurt as he warmed them back up by rubbing them and holding them near a heater.

When her shivering finally abated and her skin burned just a little less, Juliet lifted her head to look at Steve. "Thank you," she told him earnestly.

"No trouble, ma'am," he replied. The phrase sounded almost scripted and for some reason that bothered her.

"Seriously," she said. "You not only saved my life, but you've treated me," her voice dropped to a whisper, "and Rick," her voice picked back up, "with utmost respect. So, thank you."

He wasn't sure how to respond, but her mention of the pilot drew his attention back to the lone profile laying on the bank a ways away. He heard a sniff and looked down to see Juliet blinking rapidly. A spark of intuition went through him.

"You did what you could," he told her. "We both did. It just isn't enough sometimes."

She gave a dry chuckle and nodded her head. "Yeah. I know. He wasn't responding before our oh so graceful landing, so I'm really not surprised he didn't respond after. It's just," she swallowed down the lump in her throat, "he was a really nice guy."

The hand rubbing her back slowed and he squeezed her shoulder instead.

Juliet let him comfort her briefly before she shook her head. "Oh well," she said and forced herself to move on. She could cry later. "So, how long do you think it will take for the rescue to come get us?"

He hesitated.

She caught on, and said, "Yeah, I know I'm being hopeful. However, we were not the last group scheduled for Rick to fly, I saw what they had written on the board. Plus, he's totally fallen out of radio contact. If they haven't contacted someone by now, then they likely will be soon, right?"

"Right," he agreed, not knowing what else to say. He tried to be as positive as her and added, "Since it's summer, we won't have a true night. No darkness to cut the rescue searches short."

"Exactly, beside I have people waiting for me." Juliet smiled softly. It wavered though as she looked at the sky. "The only questions are, how long is it going to take, and how far off the original flight plan are we?"

"Best case scenario? Less than a day before we are found. Worse case?"

"We could be here awhile," Juliet finished for him. "Well, I've never taken a survival class, but I have plenty of common sense."

Steve smiled at her. "That's always good."

"I'm sure it doesn't compare to the skills you've got though," she commented. "What branch of the military are you in?"

He stared at her in shock and suspicion.

She misinterpreted the look. "Oh don't look at me like that. It's obvious, ok? You've been trained and act like this is something you've been through before."

"Well, not exactly like this," he stuttered.

"Ha!" she jerked her chin as if to point at his words. "See? You admit it."

He sighed. "Army."

She nodded. "Good branch," she told him.

"What about you?" Steve asked, seizing the opportunity to get some of his questions answered. He settled into a cross legged position next to her.

Juliet frowned. "What about me?"

He stared at her with raised eyebrows. "Ma'am, that bag and what you appear to be at face value are two very contradictory things."

Juliet chuckled. "Well first of all, you can stop calling me 'ma'am'. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but you've already seen me in my underwear. No point in keeping up the formalities," she said with a smile as she watched his face flush. "Second, I'm a dancer."

"Dancer?"

"Yeah. Contemporary ballet for the most part, but I like to mix things up sometimes. The group I'm with now likes to get real creative." She gave her arm a disappointed glance, "Though, this collarbone injury is going to really restrict me for a while. At least it wasn't a leg. Some never dance again after breaking a leg."

Steve nodded in understanding. "So, Juliet, why is a dancer travelling through Alaska with both knitting, extra socks, and fire starter in her bag, all the while wearing a skirt and sandals."

Juliet smiled as he dropped the formalities like she asked. "This is supposed to be my dream vacation. I'm traveling with a couple friends. I have the knitting because I like to knit, and you never know when you'll need something to alleviate boredom. I have extra socks because I went hiking a couple days ago and wanted an extra pair in case my boots got wet or whatever. And, the skirt and sandals were because today was supposed to be a carefree, no strenuous physical activities kind of day."

When she put it like that, it made a sort of sense to Steve. Still odd, but not as contradictory.

She sighed. "I wish I had my jacket."

"The green one?" He asked, knowingly.

"Yeah. I've had that thing for years. My friends actually hate it, since it's pretty old and always smells like wood smoke."

Steve smirked. "I'd noticed."

With a smile she said, "Yeah I love that smell. I'll just have to start over with a new jacket."

* * *

A/N: So, Juliet is quite the contrary character, right? Or at least, in Steve's mind she is. You know, it wasn't until I wrote this chapter that I realized that most of my characters have situations where practicality rules over modesty. Huh. Wonder what the says about me.

Many thanks to those following this story! Please leave a review!

-Spirit


	3. Chapter 3 - Lessons from Marshall

**Alright, in honor of the movie coming out tonight, I have decided to post this before I have the next chapter written. Crazy of me, but oh well. I'm dedicated now to getting this finished... eventually. Ha ha. **

**Many thanks to Amodestpoet, my awesome beta, who has seen the new movie before me. Sigh, can't wait!**

**Please, read and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Lessons from Marshall**

_"When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure." _

_-Peter Marshall_

A pseudo night fell over the pair, the remnants of light a comfort to them both. Summer in Alaska. It wasn't quite the land of the midnight sun, but far enough north that the light never fully faded from the sky. In fact, if it weren't for the trees and mountains surrounding them, Steve was certain there would have been even more light.

Next to him, Juliet fell asleep. She'd finally warmed up from her brush with hypothermia and, exhausted, she curled up against the wall of rock behind her. He marveled at the way she'd made herself comfortable. She'd wedged a shoulder against the boulder and balanced her head against it.

She'd get a crick that way for sure.

He hoped they weren't out here for enough time for that to happen, though for more reasons than just to avoid her getting a crick in her neck.

They had little in the way of food and supplies, and Steve didn't know much about the area. He'd been able to find dry wood and kindling easy enough and had a stack that should be more than enough for the night. Juliet might have an idea of what could be foraged from the area, but he doubted it. A dancer on vacation? What reason would she have to know anything about the area beyond what she read in a traveler's brochure, like the one he read?

Either way, with a clearly broken collarbone, she wasn't going to be much help.

The woman in question shifted, the sound catching his attention.

He watched as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

"This blanket is crap," she grumbled when she caught his eyes. "And these rocks aren't nearly fluffy enough for my taste."

His lips quirked into a smile.

"That's a real good fire you got going there," she complimented, lifting her head to look around.

Shrugging, he said "There's not much to it, if you know what you are doing… and have a fire starter."

This time, she grinned. "I bet. If it had been just me, I'd have had the fire starter, but no way to use it." Her bright eyes caught sight of the wood pile Steve had gathered. "Why'd you get so much?"

"Good rule of thumb is to collect much more firewood than you think you'll need," he replied.

She nodded in understanding. "Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it, right?"

"Exactly."

"Did you learn all of this is the military?" Juliet asked, curious. "Where were you stationed?"

He paused. "I've been stationed all over the place, really. Europe mostly. That's where I learned to basics in fire starting."

"Hm," she hummed. "Lucky you. What was your favorite place in Europe?"

The man sighed, shifted, and leaned back against the rock she was leaning against. Steve had a distinct feeling of impatience brewing in his chest, and was wishing their rescue would hurry up and arrive. Besides that, he did really know how to answer her question.

"I'm not sure I have one," he finally replied.

Giving him a knowing look, Juliet smiled again. "What are some memorable ones, then?" She was grateful for the distraction he was providing, even if it was grudgingly so.

"Germany," he said. "That was real memorable."

Juliet's eyebrows raised. "That didn't sound like a glowing commendation."

"It wasn't," Steve admitted. "Have you ever been to Europe?"

She nodded. "A few times. I have family in the UK ."

"Really?" Steve asked, seizing the opportunity to redirect the focus from himself. "So do you have a favorite?"

"The English coast is great, though I am attached to my family's property as well. We've even got a nice lake on the property," she told him, eyes gaining a faraway look on her face. "Sometimes I wish I was there," she told him in a hushed voice.

"I don't know," Steve said. "I'm not sure an English lake would be any better than an Alaskan one."

Caught off guard by the dry humor, Juliet snorted. Then she winced and hissed out a breath. "Don't make me laugh," she chastised. "It makes me move my shoulder."

He grimaced in sympathy. "Sorry. How bad is it?"

"It sucks a word that I'm not going to say."

He looked at her, confused.

She just sighed and told him "Don't worry about it. It hurts, but I can deal for now. No choice, really."

Nodding slowly, he took in the brilliant blue of the evening sky. "I can't believe how bright it is here."

Juliet, still leaning against the rock, raised her eyes up to the sky around them. "This is the darkest it will probably get. Would be able to walk away from the fire and still see our hands on front of our faces."

"It bugs me a little," Steve admitted.

"Me too," Juliet agreed, "but I'll admit I'd rather have as much light as we can get right now."

Steve knew what she meant and felt the same way. "You wouldn't happen to know any edible plants around here would you?"

With a sigh, Juliet told him "Berries maybe, but with anything else I'd be more likely to poison you. My brother is really good at remembering what plant is what, but I'm afraid I never cared much to learn." She snorted lightly. "Seriously regretting that now, though."

"You're hungry too?"

"Oh, I'm definitely feeling a bit peckish," Juliet confirmed. "So, in order to distract myself from my growling belly, I'm going to pester you with questions and stupid stories. That work for you?"

Steve was vaguely reminded of one aggravating billionaire. "Do I have a choice?" He asked.

"Sure," she quipped. "If you don't answer my questions, I'll just start storytelling."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her response. "Alright, what do you want to know?" He hoped he'd be able to deflect any uncomfortable questions.

"Any siblings?"

"Nope, just good friends. You?"

"Two," she said.

"Older? Younger?" He asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "Older. Both of them. One sister and one brother, and she was the oldest."

"They both in England?" He slowly crossed his arms.

Huffing softly, she said "My brother is. My sister passed away a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," he told her.

She shrugged. "So, where in the lower 48 do you call home?"

"New York for now," he replied. At least until he or S.H.I.E.L.D. decided otherwise.

Her eyes bugged open and her head popped up. "No way! Me too. Where in New York? Or did you mean NYC?"

"Brooklyn, for now. Was in the big city for a little while, but not now. Not since… Anyways, what about you?" Steve asked, hoping she didn't bring up the attack on Manhattan.

"Suburbs just outside of White Plains. It's a great area actually, though we've had quite a bit of influx after the alien attack. I almost didn't go on this trip because of it, really." She laid her head back against the rock. "What a mess that was. I volunteered a weekend before I left to help in the recovery and was really shocked by just how much damage was done."

"Yeah it was pretty bad," Steve said, thinking about the piles of rubble that had littered the streets and the building nearly pulverized between the actions of the Chitauri and the Hulk.

She caught the way he said that, the way that only an eyewitness can say something like that. "You were there?" she tentatively asked.

He slowly nodded, wondering if this was the moment she was going to put two and two together. There weren't many images of his face in the media, and none head on, but it hadn't stopped more than one person from recognizing him from the news. "I helped people evacuate."

"Wow," she said, voice hushed. "That's really awesome."

He shrugged off her awe, not entirely comfortable with it. "It's what I had to do."

She shook her head. "No it wasn't. It's what you chose to do." She looked away from him for a moment. "Some people are just good enough that they don't see the choice even when they make it."

"Thanks," he slowly responded. "I think."

"Oh, it was a compliment," she assured him. "Don't worry."

"So you mentioned friends before. Are they waiting for you somewhere?"

Her eyes widened, "I can't believe I didn't tell you that. Yes, they are. That's probably part of why I'm able to keep my head right now. I'm kind of surprised we haven't been rescued yet, though I have no idea the process they have to go through."

"It shouldn't be much longer, but we should have enough wood to last us through the night if need be," Steve informed her.

"Thanks," she said. "I'd feel bad for not being able to help, but I'm way too grateful for guilt."

"If we're still here in the morning, we'll have to figure out some sort of sling for you so that you can move around more comfortably," Steve said, eyes dropping to the shiny material covering her left shoulder and broken collarbone.

"I agree," she replied. "Then I'll be able to pull my weight a bit better. I've never enjoyed being helpless." She sighed. "Even when dancing with a partner, I've always felt that I've had some measure of control. If I ever didn't, it was because I completely trusted that partner." She gave him a rueful look. "And I only have one of those kinds of partners. He's like my brother. Both in the sense that we are that close and that he reminds me of my bother. Too much, sometimes."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I swear with the pranks we pull on each other and together on the others, I'm amazed the group has stuck together for so long. I thought Aimee was gonna kill me after the dye incident. Like, I saw her eyeing a kitchen knife."

"Dye incident? Kitchen knife?" Steve was incredulously and morbidly curious.

Grinning and nodding, Juliet proceeded to tell him the story, and then to continued to tell him another story connected to the first.

It was easy for him to keep her talking, and she was all too willing to do so. She even began to regale him with stories from her youth group and Sunday school program she participated in. There was pride in her voice as she spoke about the children and young teens and the range of game and pranks they'd all played at one point or another. She told him how the connections with those kids made being away from the rest of her family worth it. About how she found a new family to be a part of, and how great it was.

Steve found himself yearning for the kind of joy that filled her voice. It was very clear that she loved and was loved. It was something he'd wanted even before getting caught in the ice. It made Bucky's absence that much more poignant and painful.

She was in the middle of telling him yet another story about 'her kids' when Steve's ears picked up the droning sound of a motor. Soon, he could tell it wasn't a motor, but the repetitive _whumpwhumpwhump _ of a helicopter making its way to them.

Juliet let loose a squeal and struggled to stand, hissing and swearing as the rocks beneath her feet dug into the soft flesh and caused her to stumble, therefore causing her to jostle her shoulder and swear more.

Steve had leapt to his feet almost immediately and began waving at the low flying craft. It circled once, twice, and then began a slow decent further down the bank from them, where there were no trees to hinder the craft.

He overheard, Juliet's mutterings and turned with a frown. "Did you just say 'fudge monkeys'?"

"Don't judge," she countered. "That's a pretty hefty swear for me."

He just shook his head at her, a gentle smirk crossing his lips. This woman baffled him at every turn during this ordeal.

Her angry voice grabbed his attention again. "Oh will you help me, please!" She snapped. "The stones are ruthless and I look like an idiot."

His relief let him laugh as he wrapped an arm around her waist to support her as she continued to fumble her way across the stones.

Her odd swearing and annoyance didn't matter. They were found and they were going to go home. He didn't even care that she insisted on grabbing her bag.

A sob escaped Juliet as they ambled towards their rescuers. _Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. _

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A

The trip back was a blur of tears, joy, relief, and pain for the pair, particularly Juliet as her shoulder was examined and the heated blanket warmed up the still too cool portions of her body.

Juliet sat next to Steve on the flight back to civilization, but they were split up very shortly after they landed. Juliet barely got a moment to say thank you before she was ushered off to a hospital to take care of her collarbone.

Steve watched as she disappeared before he was distracted by a nurse asking if he had been injured.

Telling her no, he sighed as they proceeded to check him out further. He was fine and he knew he was fine, but how did he explain his perfect condition without revealing he was also Captain America?

Eventually, the medical staff were satisfied that he was unharmed, the doctor insisting that he contact the hospital if any issue develops at any time. Steve assured him he would and checked himself out of the hospital.

As he checked himself out, the phone at the nurses desk rang. She answered, listened for a moment and frowned. Then she glanced at his file, and then back up at him.

"Steve Rogers?" she asked. She pulled the phone away from her ear. "This is for you?" She sounded completely baffled.

With a short thanks, Steve took the receiver, already guessing who was on the other line.

"Having some trouble, Cap?" Nick Fury's voice was falsely cheery over the line. The edge always present in his voice reminded the Captain what kind of man Fury is.

"Just a bit. It's all worked out now," Steve tried to assure him.

"Uh huh," the man hummed. "You sure about that?"

Steve was frowned. "Not unless you have something to share, sir." He cleared his throat. "I thought you weren't going to be tracking us?"

"I'm not," came the dry response. "Someone just tweeted about Captain America almost dying in Alaska, and the less classified version of your medical records was accessed."

"Ah," Steve responded, unsure what to say. "I see," he said.

"Have a good trip, Cap." Fury's voice took on a wry, yet pleading tone. "Try not to crash anymore planes."

Steve smirked. "Yes, sir." He handed the receiver back to the nurse and turned to leave. It was somewhat gratifying to know that, while he was being tracked, someone was still keeping an eye out for him. Apparently he needed it.

As it was, his trip ended in a few days. Then, he'd be returning to his small and Spartan apartment.

He dreaded it actually. Dreaded going back and facing that impersonal and lifeless space. He dreaded going back and seeing his old haunts that were wearing down and the new attractions that took their places.

A well worn thought crossed his mind and latched itself firmly to the forefront of his brain. What if he moved? What if he left everything that was slightly and achingly familiar and found someplace else, someplace new where he could completely start over?

He'd thought about doing so, so many times, but it always smacked of running away. This time though, he wondered if staying the place most familiar was the true act of cowardice.

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A.

Juliet giggled as Sam tried to pull Aimee back and get her to release the bear hug she was currently giving Juliet.

"If it weren't for the good drugs, this would be a lot more painful," Juliet commented, words only slurring slightly. Her eyes were half-lidded and her limbs moved sluggishly as she grinned at both her friends.

"Sorry, sorry," Aimee finally pulled away. "When you never showed and didn't call, we got really worried. Then we heard about the plane and – and-"

Sam wrapped an arm around the weepy brunette as she tried to wipe away her tears.

Juliet pouted. "Don't cry, I'm all good. Steve was a good guy. You should meet him, he-"

"Saved your life, yes we know," Sam interrupted gently.

"You know?" Juliet peered up at him, confused. "How do you know?"

The man smiled gently. "You told us. About five times already."

The blonde pouted again. "Oh. Is he alright?"

Aimee rolled her eyes. "We already told you, he was released from the hospital. He's already left, sweetie."

"Right," she muttered. "I'm tired. And warm. It's good to be warm."

Sam laid a hand on her foot. "Sleep, Jules. Just sleep. You've had a rough day."

"Yeah," she muttered. "I did. Never should have given up the good genes."

As she drifted off to sleep, Aimee chuckled. "Yeah, I told the skirt was a bad idea Jules."

Juliet wanted to reply, but found that her mouth was no longer working. _That's not what I said_.

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A.

In the middle of Montana, a young man walked down a darkened road. His pace was halting, feet dragging with every step. He didn't remember what happened, but he knew he needed help.

Every time he coughed, the sound was wet and rough, accompanied by messy spitting and the man struggled to keep moving.

Was he dying? He must be, to feel this awful.

His head ached and a fever raged throughout his body, wracking him with chills.

He coughed again, and nearly cried out at the pain. The mucus he hacked up was swirled with blood.

Another dragging step. He felt so weak. How did he get this bad?

Lights approached from the distance.

"Help," he croaked. "Please, help." He stumbled and nearly fell as the vehicle pulled to a stop next to him.

The driver and his passenger both leapt out of the vehicle.

The young man got a good look of both of them.

Help hadn't arrived.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so our pair have been rescued and there is a hint of something sinister on the horizon... Anyone care to take any guesses?

Many thanks to those who have reviewed, **Qweb** and **Amodestpoet**. I really appreciate the feedback :)

-Spirit


	4. Chapter 4 - Lessons from Schubert

**Many thanks to my beta, Amodestpoet, for editing this instead of playing an amazing new game. He is just that awesome. **

**I want to warn my readers in the words of River Song: SPOILERS! If you have not yet seen "The Winter Soldier" and don't want it spoiled, don't read this chapter. Wait. If you don't care, well then, I don't care. **

**But seriously... **

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Lessons from Schubert**

_"There are two contrary impulses which govern this man's brain - the one sane, and the other eccentric. They alternate at regular intervals."_

_- Franz Schubert_

_One month after the events of "Winter Soldier" and two months after the crash in Alaska._

Steve sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head.

Another dead end.

As far as he could tell, Bucky had disappeared. No indications he'd left the country, no indications that he was still in the States. Nothing.

Nothing except that he'd visited the Captain America exhibit. Steve knew, without a doubt, that Bucky knew who he was, who he had been.

But who was he now?

Was Bucky trying to figure that out on his own or had he given up? Had he decided to just be this _Winter Soldier_ that he had apparently been for _years_ now.

Sam, seeing the frustration etched across the Captain's face, stepped forward. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and quipped "They say no news is good news. You'll find him. Don't worry. You'll find him."

Jerking his chin down in a rough nod, Steve replied "Yeah, I know. I don't think he remembers much, though. Not if he never returned to Brooklyn, never stopped by any of the old haunts."

"Or he's running from what he knew. Scared to look back." Sam sighed, shrugged. "We've all been there."

Steve nodded again then looked down at the file in his hand. It had been on the kitchen table of the hotel room he was using for the time period, figuring his old apartment for a goner. "I think we should follow this lead."

"You sure Fury left that for you? With S.H.E.I.L.D. in shambles, we can't be too careful." Sam reminded him.

"At this point it's the only lead we've got. This guy, he's unnamed, but he's old Soviet intelligence." Steve flipped through the pages again, a habit as he already had the words memorized. "Most of his file is blacked out. No picture, just his previous location, and old rental records."

"I don't like this, Steve." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "What if it's a trap?"

Steve gave him an incredulous look. "I don't think we'll avoid whoever set it by just not going. Besides, if it is a trap I want to know who set it up and why."

Frustrated, but understanding, Sam snapped. "Alright, fine. Where are we going?"

"White Plains, New York."

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A.

The apartment was of an average size and directly over a pizza parlor by a gruff old man who was more than happy to ignore the existence of all that annoyed him.

And Juliet loved him for it.

As she entered the parlor to head for the back stairs, she stopped to greet him. "Hey, Marcus. How's your day going?"

He grunted in response.

Juliet chuckled. "Sounds lovely." She kissed him on the cheek, being careful to avoid the dough in his hands and darted up the stairs. Her home was more than enough room for one person, and Juliet appreciated having the extra space and no tenants downstairs. The parlor below meant that she could get up late at night and dance out steps that she hadn't yet mastered. Sometimes she got up to work through a bit of choreography that was proving particularly difficult.

Her dancing inspiration was the reason for her very clear and open living room. The couch situated a beyond healthy space from the TV. All decorations and tables either hugged the walls or were easy to push out of the way when the mood struck.

Like tonight, when Juliet wanted the freedom to move without the scrutiny of others. Her troupe wouldn't even let her take part in practice or rehearsal yet, due to the damage done to her collar bone.

Some didn't think she'd be able to make a comeback from her disappearance off the stage for a couple months.

They didn't know her well enough, the ones who really thought that. They'd learn soon enough.

Stepping into her apartment, she dropped off her bag and keys in the front hall and draped her coat over the back of her cushy and slightly stained armchair. The sling she left on for the time being.

She maneuvered around her kitchen with one arm easy enough, pulling out leftover pasta from a dinner previous and decided just to eat it cold. She didn't fill up, she wasn't quite hungry enough for that and she fully planned on being active in a short while.

Twenty minutes later found Juliet seated on the floor in front of her stereo and starting her favorite playlist for nights where she just felt… restless.

As the music began to play, her feet pulled themselves into a familiar position, the muscle memory tugging on her arms to do the same. Leaving the brace on for now, Juliet let herself fall into the movement of an old routine. The song was "Intoxication" by Thomas Bergersen, and it was something else that she loved.

The music continued, the music ebbing and flowing as the blonde dancer relaxed from the typical stress of her day. It was a joy to have work in the form of her favorite hobby and it was terribly frustrating to be separated from it during her day while her friends continued to rehearse without her.

Finally, her right hand drifted up and loosened the strap of her sling from shoulder. She carefully pulled the blue fabric away from her arm and slung it to the same armchair her jacket was on. Both her arms were a part of the dance now.

She twisted her torso elegantly and twirled. Her movements started slow and sped up until –

"Ach!" She yelped, hand rising automatically to her left shoulder where sharp pain stabbed into her. Agitated and all peace caused by the dance gone, Juliet grabbed up her sling. She fumbled to put it on a she headed back for the kitchen.

Maybe a cup of tea would be a safer way to relax .

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A.

The address listed turned out to be office space on the second floor of a building currently available for rent, in part or all together. The first floor was very obviously the remains of a dance studio. The mirrors covering three of the walls and the strategically placed beams made that part clear.

Steve smiled and nodded at the landlord, who led him upstairs to a set of rooms a bit different than the ones downstairs.

The office space was barren and drab, with beige walls and wood flooring in desperate need of waxing. A light layer of dust covered the floors and the windowsills. The window panes were dirty and hard to see through, but the shiny and well-oiled hinges allowed them to open without a problem. Steve stared one of the windows, taking in the view of the surrounding buildings that were visible from this vantage point.

It was a good view. Couldn't see everything, since every vantage point has it's blind spots, but this one had smaller ones than expected.

The landlord was standing behind Steve. "Yeah, I only bought this place recently and let me tell you," he snorted, "the previous owners had no clue as to how to file. No there hasn't been any tenants here since the 'Lion's Pride' studio downstairs moved."

"And they just rented out the downstairs?" Steve asked, frowning.

The man canted his head as his eyes roved over the paperwork in his hands. "No, no it looks like they rented out the whole building. Probably didn't want to disturb anyone with whatever music they'd be playing."

"Then this place has been empty since before them?" Steve was disappointed, though not crushed. No, he knew there a low chance of even finding a valid name, never mind evidence that pointed directly to Bucky.

The landlord clicked his tongue and hummed. He flipped a couple pages forward and then flipped them back, clearly annoyed.

Steve shut the window as he asked "What is it?"

"There's a note that this floor was sub-leased by the studio, but there's no name or title or any other documentation. I'm sure it's somewhere in that mess downstairs, but it'll take me a little digging to find," he closed the folder with a sigh.

With a shrug, Steve stepped forward. Hand outstretched, he said "Either way, thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

The man flushed a bit and looked at Steve sheepishly. "I recognized you, so really this is all for bragging rights."

Steve started in surprise and then chuckled. He probably should have realized sooner. After all, he had been surprised when the glasses and ball cap disguise had worked. "Right. Sorry for not saying earlier."

Waving off his statement, the man snorted. "Please. Like you'd get any work done using your real name. It better known than George Washington, these days."

This time Steve winced. "Yeah..."

The man smirked. "Rather not think about that?"

"Right" Steve replied shaking his head. He began to head for the door, feeling it was time to leave. "Do you think you would have the lease information by tomorrow?"

Shrugging, the landlord said "Sure, but wouldn't it be better to ask the dance studio?"

"They still in the city?" Steve asked, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah," the landlord nodded. "I even have a flyer for their next event. Should have their new studio address on it. I can write it down for you?"

"That would be great, thanks." Looks like Steve's day wasn't over yet.

Steve followed the man outside where he dug through the pile of mail on his passenger seat. He found the flyer and an older scrap of paper, and hurriedly wrote down the address.

"Here you go. It's actually not too hard to get to from here. You got a GPS?"

"I do. On my phone." He looked down at the exasperating device. "At least, I think I do."

With strangely pursed lips, the landlord took pity on him and pointed out the appropriate app on the screen.

Finally, Steve was out of the door and back on his bike. It was almost a twenty minute ride to get to the new building that the dance troupe had moved to.

It was certainly a larger building, with what appeared to be a small theat re attached. The front entryway was all windows, effectively giving the building a very bright look both inside and out.

The moment he stepped through the front door, his eyes caught the red head seated at a desk.

Her eyes flickered up and she gave him a harried smile.

"Sorry, Jules. Yeah look, why don't you come in tomorrow? You can fix it then and watch the final rehearsal for this weekend's show." The woman rolled her eyes. "Don't be like that, you know we love you."

Steve rolled back on his heels a polite distance away. He didn't want to make it seem like he was eavesdropping, but it was impossible not to, really.

The woman giggled. "Ok, ok. Sounds good. See you tomorrow. Bye." She hung up and turned expectant eyes to Steve. "Hi, I'm Aimee. How can I help you?"

As Steve explained his reasons for being there, Aimee's bright grin slowly turned down, her brow furrowing.

After biting her lip and punching a few keys, she gave a defeated expression. "I'm really sorry, but we're having trouble with our system. Plus, I'm not the one who usually handles or really has anything to do with that sort of thing." She gave him a self-deprecating look. "I'm literally _just _a dancer. Jules and Harriet tend to be the ones who handle that sort of thing." Glaring at the computer screen in front of her, she grumbled "And have the passwords to the backup files."

"Could I speak with either one of them?" Steve asked. His hands rested on his hips.

Again, Aimee bit her lip. "Unfortunately not until tomorrow. Harriet, our receptionist, is out of town until next week with her husband who also happens to be our PR guy. Juliet Walker is the other person to talk to, and she'll be in tomorrow."

Juliet was likely the 'Jules' Aimee had been speaking with on the phone.

"There isn't a number I could contact either one by?" Steve tried again, guessing it was going to be an attempt in vain.

Aimee merely raised her eyebrows as she shook her head. "Yeah, no. I'm sorry, I can give you Sid's office number, but like I said…"

"He's out of town," Steve finished for her.

She nodded, sympathetic. "And I can't give out Jules's private number without her permission." Sighing, she held up a finger. "But I can call her back now?"

He grinned and Aimee began dialing. A moment passed and Aimee hung up with a scowl. She dialed again. Another moment passed and again Aimee hung up. She tried a third time.

Evidently, this had the same result.

Rolling her eyes, Aimee left a message. "Jules it's Aimee, got a man here who has some questions for you. If you don't call back in the next ..." she glanced at Steve.

He mouthed a response to her.

"Twenty minutes, I'll have him come in tomorrow to speak with you. Bye." She set the receiver down. "Sorry about that," she told him.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He stood there for a moment.

Aimee fidgeted.

"So, um. There's a show this weekend?"

She nodded and grinned. "Yeah, there is. It's a small one, so we'll be having at our theatre. Otherwise, we would be at the larger place downtown."

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Steve nodded as if he understood. "Why a small show?"

"This is a community show. Free admission, but all the commodities will be sold by our youth group. Jules's idea, but the kids have been really taken by it so far and it's a great fundraising idea." Aimee's back straightened as she spoke, pride evident in her posture and tone of voice.

"Sounds like it," Steve agreed.

Silence fell on the pair again.

Aimee tapped her fingers against the notepad in front of her.

"There's a kitchen you can wait in if you'd like. There should be some coffee and snacks too," Aimee offered.

"Sure, that'd be great thanks." He followed her gesture to the open doorway only a short distance from the front desk. Sure enough, coffee, fruit and granola bars were out on the counters.

He helped himself to both, his metabolism always allowing him to eat, and settles down at a chair.

After twenty minutes passed and Aimee hadn't appeared in the doorway to let him know that Walker has called back, Steve decided not to wait any longer and headed out.

As he leaves, Aimee gives an apologetic smile and waves.

He waved a hand back and climbed on his bike.

He's across town from where he's staying, but maybe the ride will give him something to think about. Maybe he'll figure out another clue.

Maybe he'll spot a place to get something real to eat.

Ten minutes into his ride as he slowed through an intersection and made a turn, a flash of gold caught his attention.

Long blond hair caught in the sunlight and was being billowed by the wind. The hair itself didn't stand out, but what it was attached to. Or really, _who _it was attached to.

It was a woman, and her head was ducked down against the wind.

She was digging through an obnoxiously large and black purse with one arm. The other arm, her left was in a sling. The style of her clothing was familiar, and the skirt she wore ended at her knees, showing off toned calves. Dancer's calves…

All the pieces click, and Steve wonders just what the _heck_ Fury was thinking. Because it can't be a coincidence, can it?

Juliet, the woman he ended up stranded with in Alaska, the dancer from White Sides, New York. Juliet, the woman who carried way too much stuff in one purse and didn't dress appropriately for a mountainous region. Juliet, the woman who was apparently a major part of Lion's Pride and the reason he wasted so much time with a trip across town.

Juliet Walker, the woman he needed to speak with…

And was riding past without her ever noticing him.

And he _still _needed to talk with her.

Swiftly, he pulled over and parked his bike, turning to make sure she hadn't crossed the street and she's still in the same spot in before.

She's not, instead she'd turned the corner and started walking towards him, still digging in that bag. He wondered if she'll ever find what she's looking for because he knows how much of a pain it was to dig through with two available hands, never mind just one.

He was surprised to see her arm still in a sling and wondered just how long it takes for a broken collar bone to heal. Clearly, long enough to really hinder her dancing career.

He got off the bike, stepped into her direct path. "Juliet?" he says when she didn't stop and instead nearly ran into him.

With a startled jerk, she stopped, backed up a step, and looked up at his face. Her brows furrowed and her eyes squinted in concentration. "Steve?" She asked. "How? When I told you where I live, I wasn't expecting you to just show up."

For several long seconds, he doesn't know what to say.

C.A.C.A.C.A.C.A.

She'd seen the guy on the motorcycle. Oh yes, her eyes had been caught by the Harley, but she hadn't given the rider much thought.

No, she was searching through her pursed for her blasted cell phone that just chirped letting her know that not only had she missed a call, but there was a message waiting. It would be a much easier task if she could use a hand to hold back the knitting bag that insisted on laying on top of the contents of her purse and completely blocking her vision of what was underneath.

Searching by touch was a pain. Not impossible as she'd done it before in the car at night or in a dark theater, but it made everything take longer.

Frustrated with the inability to find the dang device even though it just chirped at her _again_, Juliet decided to walk and search at the same time. She needed to get to the corner store eventually.

Blindly, she rounded the corner and kept walking, trying to watch with her peripheral vision to make sure she didn't walk into anyone. It wasn't an easy task and one she was sure she failed at when a man suddenly loomed in front of her.

She barely stopped, having to hop on her toes before throwing her body weight backwards a step. Juliet peered up at the tall man, apology dancing on her lips when she realized that the man had said her name.

And not only had he said her name, she knew this man.

Knew him and had been teased mercilessly by her friends when it was revealed she had babbled about him endlessly in a pain-killer induced haze. Then teased again when she realized just _who_ it had been that she'd been stranded in Alaska with and who not only saw her without a shirt, but had to help her take it off.

All this was still processing when, to her complete mortification, her mouth decided to blurt out the first thing that crossed her mind.

"Steve? How? When I told you where I live, I wasn't expecting you to just show up."

The man literally froze, eyes wide.

Juliet's own mouth gaped and she dare not let go off her tenuous hold of her purse to cover it, no matter how much horror she was feeling. Her throat seized up and tension locked her jaw so that she could barely squeak out "That's not what… That didn't come out… right."

Then her stupid phone chirped. Again.

Two pair of eyes dropped to her open bag, one hazel and one blue.

"Crap, I give. I'm obviously insane," she muttered, mostly to herself. A part of her hoped the man before her forgave her temporary insanity and just stated his business. Another part of her wanted to ignore his existence and her continuing embarrassment until he went away.

The phone made her choice for her. She hooked one of the straps of her purse around her shoulder and handed the other strap to him.

He took it without a word.

With her right hand she pushed back the knitting bag. "Hold this," she directed.

"Okay," he said and replaced her hand with his.

She caught sight of the bright blue of her cell phone case. "Ah ha. There you are you little sucker!" Finally, she had her cell phone in hand.

Steve gapped when she pulled it out. It was certainly bigger than his phone. "How did you lose that?" He asked, appalled.

She blushed brilliantly and gave him a one armed shrug. "'Idk my bff Jill?'"

"What?"

Waving a hand, she shook her head. "Never mind. Thanks for the help. I've been digging for this thing for the last few minutes. I think I have a missed call."

Steve spoke before thinking. "You do. From Aimee."

This time when Juliet looked up at him and took a step back, she had an entirely different expression on her face. "Well, that wasn't the least bit stalkerish," she remarked. She tugged on her purse. "Can you let go, please?"

For a brief moment, he was tempted not to, thinking that if he did she'd bolt and then he'd have to chase her like a madman. Squashing the instinct, he let go.

"Sorry," he said. "I went by the Lion's Pride. I was looking for information on a past tenant at one of the buildings you used to rent, the landlord sent me there," he rushed to explain. "I didn't even realize you were the Juliet the other woman, Aimee, called until I saw you on the street and recognized you." He was beginning to feel beyond uncomfortable and stuck his hands in his pockets. "And then all the pieces fit together. I'm surprised I didn't think of it before, I mean you told me about Aimee and well… is this helping at all?"

She eyed him carefully. "A little," she admitted. The wind blew her hair into her face again and she batted at it with one hand for several long moments.

She caught sight of the expression on Steve's face and held up one hand, index finger pointed, in warning. "Don't laugh."

He coughed and didn't laugh.

"Look, I'd love to help you right now, but I don't really have access to those kinds of files on my phone. I'd rather use my laptop at home, or Harriet's computer at work. I'd have you take me there, but I'm not getting into a car with a strange man, nor am I inviting him to my house," she crisply informed him.

"Right." It made sense, but he was honestly taken aback by her labeling him a strange man. "Would it help if I said I'm Captain America?" The moment the words slipped out, he wished he could take them back. No one else appeared to have heard, but really, that wasn't the best thing to be saying in the middle of the sidewalk.

Her reaction caught him off-guard.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I would say that I already knew and it obviously didn't change things." She gave him a droll look. "Superheroes can be freaks too."

He gaped at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh don't look at me like that. I feel like I've kicked a puppy," she grumbled. "I'd say the same thing to any of the others involved in the Manhattan mess."

"Have you even ever met another superhero?"

She squinted at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That's why I asked!"

* * *

A/N: Funny note, I changed tenses way too many time in this chapter. Thank goodness I have a beta.

So, what did you all think? Juliet's a bit of a funny character, isn't she?

Many, many thanks to those who are following this already and even more thanks to those who have reviewed, including: **shika93 **and **Qweb**

I really, really appreciate input back, so everyone, please let me know what you think!

-Spirit


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